


Under Your Skin

by 1Black_Dragon



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, loosely based off of a tumblr prompt, shiro Knows (tm)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-10 15:30:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7850632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1Black_Dragon/pseuds/1Black_Dragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Lance leaves Earth to become a Garrison pilot, he expects a life of fame, glory and women. What he doesn't expect is the metric fuckton of homework, team disagreements and nonexistent crushes that will make his life a living hell. Throw in a dose of intergalactic war, old-ass aliens and a really fucking big secret, you have the clusterfuck that is Garrison life. </p><p>rating will change later</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Che1seaLovesYouAll](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Che1seaLovesYouAll/gifts).



> loosely inspired by a prompt thought up by che1sea-xiao-long on tumblr. Not much at the moment, but actual plot will follow i s w e a r

Lance walked through the bay doors and took a deep breath as he looked up at the imposing spacecraft that loomed in front of him.  _ This is it,  _ he thought _ ,  _ swallowing down a rush of nervousness,  _ Don’t be a chicken, Lance. Man up. Go to space school, learn to fight aliens. Maybe even  _ date _ some hot aliens.  _ He took another deep breath and hoisted his backpack up onto his shoulders and began the walk towards the ramp, doing his very best not to think of the family he left behind back at the security checkpoint. 

 

“You’re going to be amazing , Lance.” His mother had said proudly, her small hands on his shoulders, smiling even as tears streamed down her face. “We’re so proud of you.”

 

His father had nodded in agreement, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he grinned broadly. “We’ll miss you, son. Especially your brother.  _ Especially _ when it’s his turn to wash the dishes.” Manuel sent a sly look over at his younger son, who stuck his tongue out.

 

“I’ll make sure to send lots of postcards.” Lance assured, a smile spreading across his face. “Any space souvenirs you guys want me to bring back?”

 

“Your sister wants an alien pet.” Gabriela said. “But don’t bring one back, please. You’ve seen how she is with animals.” Lance snorted, and exchanged a knowing glance with his brother. They’d both been witness to Bella’s long running list of ‘exotic’ pets, and the chaos they’d caused. 

 

The intercom speaker crackled to life, startling the family into motion. “Garrison flight A-160B will now begin boarding. All new recruits head to gate A-6 for flight confirmation and check in,” the voice announced. “I repeat, Garrison flight A-160B will momentarily begin boarding at gate-”

 

Lance chewed on his lip as the announcement continued, and looked at his family, a wave of homesickness crashing over him. “I’ll miss you,” he said quietly, all joking gone from his tone. The smell of homemade meals and spice washed over him as his mother pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. “I’ll miss you too, mi hijo.” Gabriela said, burying her face in his shirt. His brother joined in on the hug, wrapping his skinny arms around both his mother and Lance. “Go kick some Alien ass for me, bro.” Sam whispered fiercely, and Lance felt the sharp sting of tears. 

 

Last but not least, Manuel enveloped the whole family in his arms. “Make us proud, son.” He said. “And make sure to come home safe.”

 

Lance extracted himself from the warm embrace of his family and swiped at his eyes viciously. “I’ll come back,” he said firmly, trying not to let his lower lip wobble. “I promise.”

 

And then Lance turned away from everything that he had ever known, and walked through the bay doors towards his future, telling himself that he didn’t regret it at all.

 

He squinted down at his ticket, and then looked up at the flashing board in front of him. “Gate A-160B..” He muttered, scanning the screen for any matching numbers. “....A-106B….”

 

A flashing red notification popped up at the lower left half of the screen and Lance choked on his own spit. ‘Last call for flight A-160B,  _ Departure in T- minus 10 minutes _ ’ He spun around to look for the gate signs, and stumbled as he nearly tripped on his own feet. “Mierda!” He hissed, and bolted down the A corridor, his jacket nearly flying off his shoulders. “No way! No  _ fucking _ way am I missing this flight!!”

 

Already visions of disaster flashed in his mind.  _ I’ll have to go into hiding! _ Lance thought dejectedly.  _ I could never face my family again! _ Lance pictured himself slinking back out of the spaceport, skulking in the shadows like a fugitive. He’d have to live under bridges, and eat food from McDonalds dumpsters! An extra burst of terror upped Lance’s speed, and he practically flew down the hallway, narrowly avoiding crash collisions with innocent passerby. Finally a sign that read Gate A-6 flashed above him, and Lance skidded to a halt, his skinny chest heaving. A small trickle of Garrison recruits were still coming in from all around, and he heaved a sigh of relief. There were no McDonalds dumpsters or bridges in _ his _ future.

 

He shouldered his backpack and straightened his jacket in an effort to compose himself. After all, a future fighter pilot had to make a lasting first impression. He flashed the pass check attendant a winning smile and pulled out his ticket and Garrison ID. The waiting attendant held out his hand for his ID badge, and Lance handed it over with a smirk. “I’m Lance, Lance McClain-”

 

“-All Earth recruits to the corridor on my right.” The attendant said tiredly, raising one unimpressed eyebrow at a rapidly deflating Lance. He handed the badge back to the brunette recruit and ushered him into the ship with a final order to stow his bags in the storage lockers. Lance discreetly stuck out his tongue at the attendant when he was sure he wasn’t looking, and sulked down the hall. So much for a first impression. Granted, being late probably hadn’t helped him much.  _ Whatever. I’ll just have to blow them all away during training.  _ The thought cheered him up a bit, and he whistled a merry tune on his way down to the ship.

 

It was…………. It was kind of a hunk of junk. Lance couldn’t help but feel a stab of disappointment as he looked at the shuttlecraft that was supposed to carry him to his bright and glorious future as a fighter pilot. It was dented and scratched, and the paint job was flaking away at the edges.  _ ‘Nita’s toy jet could probably fly better than this scrap metal _ . Lance thought, appraising the craft with a critical eye. But there on the right side of the craft was the Garrison logo that Lance had dreamed of since he was a little boy.  Despite the less-than favorable condition of the ship itself, the logo was flawless and brightly painted, and it filled Lance with a renewed sense of determination.

 

After flashing his recruit ID at another waiting guard, he cautiously stepped onto the ship, wincing as the floor creaked underneath his feet. He squinted down at his ticket again, and then looked at the branching hallways that spread before him. His ticket information stated that he’d be grouped together with Squad 3, so Lance eyeballed the corridor numbers again, and went down the hallway on his left. He passed several other recruits on his way, and after (unsuccessfully) charming the hell out of several students, he managed to find Squad Room 3. 

 

Lance stowed his bags in one of the available lockers, and swallowed down a burst of nervousness as he went to unlock the door. These were going to be his teammates, the people he was going to work with for the rest of his academic career. _What if they’re all assholes?_ _What if they hate me?? What if-_

 

His internal monologue of panic was interrupted as the door slid open to reveal a tired looking kid with a mop of brown hair. “You coming in or not? The ship won’t lift off unless we’re all here and accounted for.”

 

Lance stared down at the kid, his eyes wide. “You’re short,” he said intellegently, and the kid raised their eyebrows. 

 

“You’re staring,” The kid responded, their eyes narrowing. “I’m Pidge, and you’re blocking the traffic.”

 

Pidge then stepped back and took a seat one of the chairs, buckling themselves in with a smooth kind of efficiency. Lance stared, still to surprised to move, as they pulled out a small gadget (weren’t all unauthorized electronics prohibeted?) and began to tap furiously at the screen.

 

Lance uttered a very manly squeak as someone gently tapped his shoulder. “I’m Hunk,” a voice said from behind him, and lance scrambled into the room and faced his attacker, and immediately cowered. Hunk was large and imposing, with hands that could probably smush Lance’s face in one go. But his eyes were kind and a smile was spreading across his face. “Yo, dude, I didn’t mean to startle you but you were blocking the door.” Hunk said apologetically. “I was grabbing my chips from the locker before they shut the door for good.” 

 

Lance chuckled and stepped aside, allowing the bigger man to pass. “Nah man, I get you. How’d you sneak the chips though? They confiscated all my food at the security checkpoint.”

 

Hunk waggled his eyebrows mysteriously and said nothing. Pidge looked up at the two of them for a moment, then resumed their mysterious tapping, but there was a faint smile on their face. “Hang on,” Lance said, looking around the room. “Isn’t there supposed to be four of us?”

 

Pidge nodded, still engrossed in their tech, and said, “Yeah. I was hoping the other guy would be with you. Maybe he’s a no-show.”

 

Hunk glanced over at the door, and popped a chip into his mouth. “Or maybe he’s just late,” he said. “But whoever he is, he’d better hurry. They close the shuttle doors in just a couple of minutes.”

 

“I bet he just chickened out.” Lance scoffed, leaning back in his seat. “Not everyone is cut out for this kind of a mission. It takes a real man to go out into space.” 

 

“Thanks,” said an unfamiliar voice from the doorway, and Lance stifled another manly noise as he swung around. The newcomer was glaring down at him with a pair of unsettling dark violet eyes. Lance bristled, immediately set on edge, and began sizing up the competition. Tall, dark and (reluctantly admitted) handsome was tall, maybe a bit shorter than Lance himself, and sported an impressive black mullet. He was clutching a faded red jacket in one hand, and a water bottle in the other. Lance was not impressed.

 

“Where’ve you been?” Pidge questioned, scowling up at the newcomer. “You’ve been delaying departure.”

 

The new guy shrugged and slumped down in the seat farthest away from lance. “I ran into a few complications with my boarding pass.” He said, and buckled his seat belt. Hunk offered the stranger a chip, which was politely declined, and then held the bag out to Lance who gratefully grabbed a handful. 

 

“I’m Lance.” He said, and extended a hand. Lance had been raised right, and even if the stranger was a bit standoffish and quiet, he deserved a proper greeting.

 

“Keith.” The stranger said, and then turned away towards the window, completely ignoring Lance’s outstretched hand. Lance’s face morphed into an expression of disbelief, and he exchanged a dubious look with Hunk and popped another chip into his mouth.  _ Can you believe this guy? _ He mouthed, and Hunk shrugged, mournfully staring down at his now-empty chip bag.

 

The ship rumbled to life, and a voice came over the intercom announcing departure. Lance plastered himself to the window as they took off, watching his whole world dwindle into a tiny speck behind him. He bit his lip and then turned away from the window, not trusting his eyes to remain dry. He caught Keith watching him with a raised eyebrow, and his earlier words floated back through his mind.  _ It takes a real man to go out into space… _

 

Lance realized right then and there that he hated Keith.  _ I’m gonna kick this dude’s ass, _ Lance decided.  _ God help you Keith, cuz you and your stupid fucking mullet are going down. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Lance decided about halfway through the weeklong flight to the station that he  _ really liked space. _ As soon as Earth had faded out of view and the worst of his homesickness had passed, he found that staring out at the stars was actually really calming. There was something about the vastness of it all that completely fascinated him. Unfortunately, Lance wasn’t the only one who thought so. The only other person in Squad 3 who spent the same amount of -if not more- time glued to the window was Keith. And Lance hated Keith. 

 

He hated his stupid mullet and his stupid red jacket. He hated the way that he took too long in the shower, and how he’d hum some strange melody to himself after lights out. But most of all, he hated the way that Keith didn’t seem to understand the concept of common human decency.                                 

 

“You ate the last piece?” Lance wailed, clutching his face in his hands. “The very last piece of unhealthy Earth food we’re ever gonna get up here?”

 

Keith merely shot Lance a blank stare and swallowed the last piece of twinkie. “Hunk offered,” he said flatly, and stood up, clearly intending to return to his post at the window. Lance was having none of it. “Dude! That’s…. That’s like the  _ sacred rule _ of sharing food! When there’s only one piece left you gotta ask if anyone else wants some!”

 

“That’s a pretty dumb rule.” Keith said, crossing his arms. “What’s the point of asking if there’s only enough for one person?”

 

“It’s polite!” Lance insisted, looking around for backup. Unfortunately for him, Hunk was occupied with a new piece of tech that Pidge had somehow managed to smuggle aboard, and offered no support. “It’s polite.” Lance repeated, quieter this time, and Keith raised an eyebrow.

 

Lance tried again. “That’s like… Like.. Uh,  _ shit _ ….”

 

“You’re almost there, keep trying.” Pidge said dryly, not even looking up from their screen, and Lance flipped them the bird.  

 

“That’s like going through a door, and seeing that someone is also gonna go through the same door, but instead of holding it open for them, you just close it in their face.” Lance finally finished..

 

Keith merely balled up the twinkie wrapper and resumed his walk towards the window. Lance glared daggers at his mullet. He shot an incredulous look at Hunk -who now that the impending conflict had dissipated- was more than ready to rejoin the conversation. “I dunno man,” the bigger man said, leaning back in his chair. “I did offer.”

 

“But he was supposed to _ ask _ .” Lance said fervently, shooting another glare in the direction of Keith. “That’s basic manners! Didn’t his family teach him anything?”

 

“Shut up, Lance.” Pidge said suddenly, their glasses flashing. “You don’t know  _ jack shit _ about his family. Or anyone’s family, for that matter.” They said viciously, slamming the lid of their device shut. “Don’t stick your nose into other people’s business.”

 

And with that, they retreated into the bedrooms,leaving behind them an awkward and uncomfortable silence.

 

And so a few days passed.

 

Pidge never mentioned their outburst after that, and Lance made a point of trying to get to know his teammates. He learned through Hunk who learned from snooping that Pidge had left a girlfriend back on Earth, and after a few awkward conversation starters, learned that their favorite color was green and that they loved peanut butter, but hated peanuts.

 

“I don’t know,” was their answer when Lance questioned them on their logic. “They’re just so… dry, y’know?”

 

Lance didn’t know, but he agreed anyways. Around the same time, he also learned that Pidge was chatty as  _ hell _ , and when given the opportunity, would gladly talk someone’s ears off. 

 

“That thing you’re always looking at.. What is it?” Lance asked one evening, having finally gathered up the courage to snoop over Pidge’s shoulders (despite fervent warnings from Hunk) and get a peek at their mysterious technology.

 

“It’s a transmitter.” Pidge said simply. “It’s to listen in on alien chatter.”

 

Hunk jolted upright from where he had been drifting off in a lounge chair. “Aliens?” He exclaimed, his eyes wide. “They’re actually out there?!”

 

“Not exactly,” Pidge admitted, averting their eyes. “I mean, they have to be, somewhere. I just don’t have any evidence. At least, not yet I don’t.”

 

Lance bounced forward on his heels and poked an inquisitive finger at the flashing screen, and hissed as Pidge batted his fingers away. “No touching.” They said sharply, and Lance stuck out his lower lip, but retreated. 

 

He bit back a curse as Keith materialized from seemingly nowhere to ask; “How did you get it onboard? I thought they stowed all electronics during the flight.”

 

Pidge pushed up their glasses and grinned smugly. “I built it.”

 

Lance’s jaw dropped. “I call bullshit.” He said, and Keith, to his surprise, nodded in agreement.

 

Keith’s dark eyes narrowed as he stared at Pidge’s transmitter. “That’s not an answer, and that’s really sophisticated tech you’re dealing with there.” He said. “The kind of tech that the  _ governmen _ t probably wants to keep classified.”

 

“Probably.” Pidge said breezily, skimming their fingers down the device. “But they should have thought of that before they made their security measures so easily hackable.”

 

Hunk’s eyebrows reached his hairline. “You…  _ Hacked the goverment _ ??”

 

The kid’s grin was nothing short of devilish. “Kind of.”

 

Lance decided right then and there to never,  _ ever _ , piss off Pidge. If they could hack the whole government, nowhere was safe. Luckily, Pidge didn’t seem to have any interest in galactic domination, and seemed content to listen to space noise instead. 

 

Hunk, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be thrilled with the concept of aliens. His face turned a kind of greenish tinge, and he looked towards the window with a new kind of apprehension.

 

“You knew what you were getting into when you applied for the Garrison, Hunk,” Pidge admonished when Hunk voiced his concern. 

 

“Well, no,” Hunk said, crossing his arms. “The handbook didn’t mention anything about aliens. Or space noise.”

 

“It was in the fine print.” Pidge said, pulling out said handbook from their backpack. “Didn’t you read it?”

 

“Nobody reads the fine print.” Lance said firmly, and Hunk nodded in agreement.

 

“I just assumed that if there was anything we really needed to know, somebody would tell us.” Keith added, peering over Pidge’s shoulder as they flipped through the pages. 

  
Pidge snapped the book shut with a sigh and leaned back in their chair. “In that case, I guess you’ll be waiting a long,  _ long _ time for answers.” A strange glint appeared in their eyes as Keith reached for the handbook. “Or,” Pidge said slowly, “I could tell you about it.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> im terrible im sorry

“So,” Hunk said, sitting with his hands on his knees, “What you’re saying is that the aliens are sending weird space messages to each other. Weird space messages that say ‘Voltron’.”

 

“Yu-p.” Pidge said, popping the P. “Or at least that’s what I’m getting.”

 

“Not to bust your game or anything, but isn’t there a chance that someone out there is hardcore trolling you?” Lance asked, looking down at Pidge’s unholy mess of notes.

 

“Not really,” was the reply. “I mean, we don’t have any active missions out there right now, and the closest spacecraft is the station. Plus, I don’t really think they’d be broadcasting into such a specific spectrum if anyone  _ was _ messing with me.”

 

“It could be the Kerberos team.”  Lance suggested, wiggling his eyebrows. “No one knows what happened to them.”

 

Both Pidge and Keith stiffened imperceptibly.

 

“That’s not funny.” Keith said hoarsely. “You know full well that no one made it out.”

 

Lance withered a little bit.

 

“Yeah I guess you’re right. Not funny.” He awkwardly cleared his throat and looked away towards the window. “Actually, the Kerberos mission is why I’m here in the first place.”

 

Pidge looked at him quizzically. “Really? How does that pan out?”

 

“Takashi Shirogane.” Lance said proudly, sitting up a little straighter in his seat. “He’s my hero.”

 

Keith made a choking noise.

 

Lance glared at him. “What? You got a problem with that?!”

 

Keith shook his head. “No, no. I… I can respect that. He was a good man.” His violet eyes dimmed a little, and his hair seemed to droop. “He didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

 

“None of the Kerberos team did.” Pidge said firmly. “That’s why I joined the Garrison. I wanna help make tech that’ll make sure things like that will never happen again.” Their lower lip quivered slightly, and Lance made a mental note to ask Pidge about the Kerberos team later. There was  _ definitely _ something personal going on there. But that time was not now, and the conversation had to keep flowing. There was good team communication happening.

 

Lance looked expectantly over to Hunk. “Your turn. Why’re you joining the Garrison, Hunk? You don’t seem too fond of the whole ‘space exploration’ thing.”

 

“Nah, I don’t really mind it all that much. “ Hunk said, shaking his head. “But being a pilot really isn’t my thing. I’m more here for the engineering.”

 

Pidge’s head whipped over. “Really? What division?”

 

Hunk shrugged. “Not quite sure yet. I’m thinking biomechanical or aerospace.”

 

Lance’s eyebrows shot up. “How do you plan on getting in? The engineering dept. has the highest grade requirements of  _ all _ the fields.”

 

“I have teacher recommendations.” Hunk said simply, and looked over to Keith. “Your turn.”

 

“I’m here to be a fighter pilot.” He said simply. “Not much more to it than that.”

 

“Same,  _ obviously _ .” Lance said, leaning back in his chair. “I guess that makes us rivals, eh, Keith?”

 

Keith shrugged. “I guess…”

 

T:he shuttle jolted and creaked ominously, causing the young team to yelp in unison.

 

“This is where I die,” Hunk murmured, staring forlornly out at the stars. “I’m gonna die because of space turbulence.”

 

“You’re not gonna die.” Pidge said, clutching the armrests of their chair. “Those noises probably mean we’re close to the docking port.”

 

“You’re shaking.” Keith pointed out unhelpfully.

 

“You’re just mad that I’m right.” Pidge said, flipping Keith the bird.

 

Lance ignored them both and clung tightly to his seat, his eyes squeezed shut.  _ I’m gonna die I’m gonna die I’m gonna die I’m gonna die I’m gonna di- _

 

His internal crises was interrupted when the intercom crackled to life.

 

“Attention all recruits. Docking is now in progress. Please gather any and all belongings from your personal quarters and lockers as you prepare to exit the ship. The Garrison will not be responsible for any and all misplaced or damaged items-.”

 

Pidge flung themselves out of their chair, displacing both Keith and Hunk in their effort to reach their illegal(?) tech as the loudspeaker droned on about exit policies and extra security measures.

 

“This seems kind of dumb.” Keith murmured, shouldering his small pack. “They already checked us twice before boarding. Why do we have to go through security again?”

 

Lance side-eyed Pidge’s collection and raised his eyebrows. Keith followed his glance, and his expression cleared.

 

“ _ Ah _ ,” he said, and fell silent.

 

“Don’t hate on my space junk.” Pidge said, clutching a screen to their chest. “I got this stuff onto the ship, and it’s sure as hell coming  _ off _ the ship with me.”

 

“Need any help?” Hunk asked hopefully, eyes sparkling as he looked at the mess in front of him.

 

Pidge squinted at him suspiciously, but after a few seconds of silent scrutiny, they handed Hunk a sort of small controller and a small bundle of wires.

 

“You’re a criminal now, Hunk.” Lance said solemnly, stuffing his socks down into the depths of his backpack. “A wanted man. Running from the law~.”

 

He was cruelly ignored by both parties.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rest of the packing was spent in a frenzied flurry of activity. Hunk’s bandana mysteriously appeared underneath Lance’s bunk, and a bunch of Pidge’s electrical wires along with some socks, a beanie, and a small collection of food wrappers. were revealed to be in a strange stash underneath Keith’s bed. When confronted, the guilty party merely shrugged.

 

“Keep better track of your stuff.” Keith said simply, wrinkling his nose as a particularly pungent sock came to light. “It’s not like I  _ wanted _ any of this to be under my bunk.  _ God that reeks _ !”

 

Lance dangled the sock in front of Keith’s face, watching in fascination as Keith’s face turned various shades of green.

 

“Who’s sock is it?” Lane asked, moving the sock closer.

 

Keith made a noise that could only really be described as a hiss and backed up. “I don’t know! Just.. Get that  _ away  _ from me! I have a sensitive nose!”

 

His eyes were watering, and he did look rather distraught, so Lance took pity on Keith, and tossed the sock aside. “Fine, I guess one missing sock won’t kill whoever lost it.”

 

Keith glared daggers at him.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

After much effort and cursing, the new recruits stood suited and ready along with their peers at the shuttle doors. Tensions were high, and the excitement in the air was almost palpable.

 

“I can’t wait to see the shuttle!” Pidge said excitedly, bouncing on their toes to try to get a good look out the window.

 

“It probably looks like any other ship.” Keith said, from somewhere behind Lance. “Don’t get your hopes up too high.”

 

Pidge ignored him.

 

“Don’t be such a party pooper.” Lance whispered in Keith’s general direction. “Just because you can’t feel joy doesn’t mean you have to take it out on everybody else!!”

 

“I can feel joy.” Keith retorted, sounding deeply offended.

 

“Prove it.” Lance muttered back.

 

Before Keith could reply, he was cut short as a creak and groan announced the gradual opening of the bay doors. A hum of anticipation rippled through the assembled cadets, and Lance found himself rising onto his tiptoes and the doors slowly slid open.

 

A wash of light flooded the room, and Lance’s mouth went dry.

 

Space was  _ so _ .  _ Damn _ .  _ Cool _ .


End file.
